The Path of Thorns
by squeakyfingers
Summary: Chapter 4 added. He never thought he’d find what he was running from. GCR.
1. Prologue

The Path of Thorns  
  
By: Allison  
  
Disclaimer: Not my players, just my playground.  
  
Archive: The Graveyard  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
A/N: This came to me a few nights ago during a bout of insomnia.   
  
Summary: He never thought he'd find what he was running from...  
  
Prologue  
  
++++++  
  
It was raining in Delaware. He saw it on the news that night, sitting on the sofa with a box of chocolate covered grasshoppers and a glass of scotch, straight up on the rocks, dangling idly from his hand. Delaware always had rain it seemed, except when it had snow. Not that it mattered - it matched his mood of late, and he'd much rather have it that way than the other way around.  
  
It had been months since he'd thought of work, since he'd packed his things and left the notice of his six-month leave lying on his desk. He'd left Warrick in charge-he knew Warrick would understand why he'd had to go-why he was running.  
  
After those first eight months of endless searching, endless chasing -of leads and evidence and suspects, he'd given up. The faster they worked, the faster the evidence seemed to disappear and deeper his pain became. He had to run; it was his only choice-only escape-the only thing he could think of to do.  
  
He'd run far and fast. Hell, he'd run himself clear across the country. Holing himself in this shack of a cabin with his bugs and his scotch, away from the world, made it easier to exist.  
  
Until now.  
  
The t.v. that he'd made sure had satellite flashed before his eyes. The weather had come and gone-the top stories were playing, a woman had been found.   
  
His hands ran unconsciously over the ring on his finger. This had to be a joke. It hadn't happened, it couldn't. He had to be hallucinating.  
  
He didn't even notice the glass tumbler fall swiftly, surely to the ground, shattering--didn't notice as the remains of his drink splashed onto the hardwood floor, staining the nearby rug.  
  
The TV droned on...the story continued...and it happened again...they flashed her picture again. Gil knew those eyes anywhere.   
  
Grabbing a flashlight and his keys off of the table next to him Gil ran out the door to his truck. Four months ago, he'd started running from a ghost...and now, now he'd caught up with something very real.  
  
TBC. 


	2. Ch 1: The Players, The Scene

The Path of Thorns  
  
By: Allison  
  
A/N: I promised Angie that I would post some more of this story this weekend, so it's short than I had originally planned. Hopefully the next one will be long, and make up for it.  
  
Chapter 1: The Players, The Scene  
  
+++++  
  
The first thing Mary Kincaid, age 34, journalist for the local new station, had done when she'd gotten to work was pour herself a cup of toxic waste coffee from the pot in the employee break room. She enjoyed the nights like these, where news was slow and she had no better place to be than sitting idly within the confines of her small, claustrophobic sized office.  
  
At least she thought she did.  
  
Listening to the rain now as it pounded against her umbrella, more than an hour after her initial foray into work, she certainly wasn't longing for her office now. Looking back, she'd been naïve in thinking her night would be, or could be so uninteresting. She was lucky to be here-the other reporters off elsewhere on assignments. She'd been the only one free, and inadvertently landed what she thought to be the hottest case of the year so far.  
  
Bringing the mike up, she watched as Matt, the cameraman, used his fingers to count down-giving her the go ahead to start.  
  
"Hello this is Mary Kincaid and you're watching channel 12 WHYY, Wilmington's choice for news. We're here at Brandywine State Park where not an hour ago an as yet unidentified woman was found unconscious just past Thompson Bridge Rd. Police have not yet speculated as to how the woman got there, but they do say they believe someone else was involved...keep tuning in to WHYY for more on this story as it develops."  
  
"And that's a wrap," Matt called as he took the camera away from his face. "Nice work Kincaid."  
  
"Thank Donovan, but it isn't over yet." She wasn't sure when the two had started calling each other by their last names, it certainly wasn't when they'd met-him on his first day nearly running her over and spilling his coffee. It was kind of ironic really, how coffee was so vital to their relationship-they'd met over coffee, had their first date over coffee. Hell, the man had proposed while she was making it after dinner one night.  
  
"Who knew we'd be so lucky as to be standing out here in the rain all night," he joked, smiling the smile that would make any woman's knees go weak.  
  
"Speak for yourself. I for one am happy to be here," she blew on her hands for a moment before shoving one back down into the pocket of her jacket.  
  
"Got one of your feelings, again?"  
  
"This one's going to be big-Matt, I can feel it."  
  
Before she could speak again, she noticed a man running in her direction. He was soaking wet from the rain, and carrying what looked to be a large utility flashlight. He was, upon closer inspection-in his late forties, early fifties, his silver hair matted against his forehead.   
  
"I...I have...to see her," he sputtered bracing his hands against his knees as he gasped for air. "Please...I have to."  
  
Mary looked at him warily, "Most people start with 'hello...my name is...' or something."  
  
"Gil...my name is Gil Grissom, I live just off the road over there. Now may I please see her?" He was agitated now, and it was starting to get on Mary's nerves.   
  
She was about to reply but Matt laid a gentle hand on her arm and spoke for her. "Who exactly are you looking for, Mr. Grissom? I'm sure we can help you find them. Someone on the news crew?"  
  
"You don't understand, I saw her face on the news. I know that woman," Gil gritted out. "You have to let me see her."  
  
"They've taken her to the hospital. You'll have to go there." Matt shifted his camera to the other hand, the plastic cover rustling about as he moved. "I can give you directions if you need them." He motioned for Grissom to follow him to the truck so he could get a pen, only to be pulled back suddenly by an unseen hand.  
  
  
  
"Matt, I've got a feeing about this one," Mary turned him around and pulled her face up close to his. This man, this Gil Grissom, was the key to everything; she could feel it. And as much as she loved Matt Donovan, she wasn't about to lose her story because of him. She couldn't let Gil Grissom walk off into the night without getting the chance to ask him a few questions.   
  
She whipped back around to talk to the strange man that had approached them, only to find that he was gone.  
  
TBC. 


	3. Ch 2: On the Case

The Path of Thorns  
  
By: Allison  
  
Chapter 2: On the Case  
  
+++++  
  
Gil didn't need to know where the hospital was; he could easily find it on his own, he'd passed it numerous times. Pushing foot harder down on the gas he prayed that he'd make all the green lights on the way. He still couldn't believe after all this time that he'd found her.  
  
And that he may have lost her again.  
  
Stopping his truck in the closest spot he could find, Gil quickly shut off the engine and got out-practically at a sprint, he ran towards the door - not bothering with his umbrella to combat the steady rain. The rational side of his brain had ceased to function long ago, his mind only able to process one thing at a time.   
  
He reached the doors within seconds, t-shirt clinging to his now thinner frame. Throwing them open he continued to run all the way to the nurses station.  
  
"The woman...from the park...can I see her?" He slammed his hands down on the front desk, the woman behind startled, snapping immediately to attention. She looked none to pleased at the man who had interrupted her right in the middle of soap opera digest.   
  
"Sir, you need to calm down. I can't help you when you're all worked up."  
  
"There was a woman...blonde hair, blue eyes...they found her at Brandywine Park. How is she? Can I please see her?"  
  
"If you'll give me a few minutes I'll look her up for you. Are you family?" Grissom stared at her for a moment before nodding the affirmative. "What relation?"  
  
"Can I please just see her?"  
  
"It says here she's in room 104," the nurse replied, softly.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
When the gray haired man had rushed off, Mary was quick to follow. She wasn't one to let a story go cold, and she knew that there was something big going on. And that the man she had just met was right in the middle of it. Grabbing her things and Donovan, she ran to her car and threw them inside.   
  
"Hurry up, Don..." she muttered harshly, throwing the vehicle into drive as he shut the door and prepared to put on his seat belt.  
  
"Maybe you could wait until I'm in the car to start driving, I don't think you want splattered fiancé all over the pavement," he replied, smirking at her.  
  
"Don't look at me like that, I wouldn't be the one scraping you off of the highway."  
  
"I'm touched that you care so much for me, Mar." Using her right hand, she ran her fingers through her short, auburn hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. She was nervous, she'd be the first person to admit it, and driving wasn't helping at all. She could felt the story, just within her grasp. All she had to do now was reach out and grab it.   
  
"There's no one else I would partake in this intense battle of wits with, Don." She looked over at him, green eyes dancing.  
  
"Eyes on the road Kincaid, or they're going to be sweeping us both up off of the pavement."  
  
"Smart ass."  
  
"And proud." Matt leaned back against the seat, content on having won the argument. His dark brown hair was plastered against is forehead. He seemed so relaxed, while she was an utter bundle of nerves and energy, practically waiting to explode. Focusing her eyes back on the road, she gazed as the lights that passed by as they re-entered the city. The traffic was heavy for such a late hour and Mary maneuvered around cars and semis, trying to get to her destinations as fast as possible.  
  
After about ten minutes or so, she spotted her exit and took the off-ramp into the city. After another five, and a few stoplights she saw the sign that read "St Francis Hospital" and sharply turned in.   
  
"Mary!" Matt had been dozing lightly and at the swift turn, nearly forward in his seat and awoken sharply. "Remind me to drive next time, would you?"  
  
"Not a chance." She cut the ignition and got out, Matt right on her tail.  
  
"Is it just me or have I taken on the role of lap dog on this little excursion?"  
  
"Honey, I love you, but could you please shut up?" Mary was all business as they pushed through the doors and made their way up to the nurse's station.  
  
"Hello, how can I help you?" The nurse at the desk set down her copy of soap opera digest for the second time that night.  
  
"Yes we're looking for a man, late forties, gray hair, goes by the name of Grissom. He hasn't been in her has he?"  
  
"I don't know what his name is, but there was a man in here awhile ago, interrupted me right as I was reading up on Guiding Light. He was looking for that woman, the one they found out at the park...He was a bit freaked out, and actually, he struck me as a little odd."  
  
"That's the guy, can you tell me where he went?"  
  
"I sent him to her room, he said that he was family."  
  
"Could you perhaps...tell where it is? It's very important that we speak with him. He may be able to help us figure out what happened to her, and how she ended up there."  
  
" You guys sure as a lot of questions...are you guys cops, or something?"  
  
Mary looked at Matt and then back at the nurse. "Uh, not exactly."  
  
"Well then who are you? I can't let anybody up there but family..."  
  
"We're not..." Matt started, but Mary elbowed him swiftly in the stomach and he quieted as quickly as he'd first opened his mouth.  
  
"I think...she's my cousin...but I just have to be sure..." Mary whispered, trying to be as convincing as possible. "I just want to make sure she's okay."  
  
"But you were just..."  
  
"I'm a reporter, I get a little carried away..."  
  
"Aw you poor thing, go on in, dear. She's in room 104. I'm sure whomever you're looking for will be happy to see you."  
  
"Thank you so much, you don't know what this means to me," Mary told her sincerely as she backed away from the desk at towards the double doors.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Grissom had been standing outside her room for the last half an hour. He wanted to go in, but for some reason, his feet wouldn't budge. Like superglue, they stuck to the floor. Just the sight of her after 14 months of not seeing her face-her smile, eyes when they lit up; he was just grateful to be standing there, even if a piece of thin glass was separating them.  
  
She was a few feet away, and that was closer than he'd been to her in a long time.  
  
"Excuse me, sir. Are you looking for someone?" A sandy-haired doctor emerged from room, clipboard in hand.  
  
"The woman in there; how is she?"   
  
"Stable...and that's all I can tell you, unless you're family. In which case, you could be very helpful...Mr....?""  
  
"Gil Grissom. And we are related...she's my wife." The words came out breathlessly and quick, Gil hadn't been sure he'd ever get to say them again, and they came out so fast he had little time to cherish their meaning.  
  
"Well Mr. Grissom, your wife was very lucky. Concussion, a few cracked ribs, a fracture of the ulna, and some minor cuts and abrasions...she's sedated now, but she'll be fine. If you'd like to go in and see her, you can. I have some forms I need you to fill out for me...and I'm sure the police are going to want to talk to you."  
  
Grissom nodded, numbly glancing at the man's nametag. "Thank you, Dr. Guilford."  
  
"Go in and see your wife..."  
  
"Catherine," Grissom finished. "Her name is Catherine." And then he turned and pushed through the doors, a weight lifted considerably off of his chest.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Matt Donovan had been on many excursions with his wife to be...but this one had to take the cake. Rubbing the spot where she had elbowed him, he wondered what it was that made him go for such feisty women. The feisty green-eyed reporter type of woman-known to follow hunches wherever it might lead her...he'd been warned by co-workers, but he never listened. He knew that would get him into trouble one day.  
  
"I think...she's my cousin...but I just have to be sure..."  
  
And that day may very well have come today. Danger, that was one thing, but he'd never seen Mary blatantly lie, and certainly not so easily. And the nurse who ran the counter, was just as easily taken in by the lie, Mary's smile warm and trustworthy... this was a whole new side to Mary he'd never seen and he wondered if maybe he would have to watch his back a little when they were finally married.   
  
"What are you doing, babe?" He whispered as they moved through a set of double doors and into a hall of private rooms.  
  
"Just go with it Don, it got us in here, didn't it?"  
  
"Yea, but what happens when they found out we aren't really supposed to be here? Did you think of that?"  
  
"Always so rational," she replied, mischievously. "You need to try cutting loose a bit more. You'll live longer."  
  
"You're a riot, Alice." He joked, but didn't get an answer in return. Looking up he saw what had her so captivated. The open door to room 104. The man they had run after to find was sitting in the chair right next to the woman that had been found in the park. As they made their way to the door Mat saw that he man was holding her hand, and he jerked Mary back as she attempted to stride thought he door.  
  
"Matthew Donovan, what are you doing?" She asked, infuriated.  
  
"You can't go in there."  
  
"Why not? What happened to that fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants Donovan that I fell in love with? I have a story to get...and you're going to help me!"  
  
"Mary, look at him...just look...does it look like he needs us interrupting him, asking him for a story?"  
  
"It doesn't matter if he needs it or not...the public needs to know what's going on here, and if he's involved with that woman, than I need to talk to him. And if I don't get to him now, than someone else will sweep him up, and you and I could both be out of a job."  
  
"I'd like to think you'd put human compassion before your job. Obviously I was mistaken."  
  
"Maybe I was too," she whispered and she went through the doors and into the room, leaving Donovan behind to watch.  
  
TBC. 


	4. Ch 3: Intrusion

The Path of Thorns  
By: Allison  
  
A/N: Thanks to Angie for betaing this part for me, and for nagging me to write all the time. You're awesome. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed this so far, I know you've probably been waiting for a while now.   
  
Chapter 3: Intrusion  


Grissom knew she was there before got halfway through the door. He didn't look up. He didn't want his eyes to ever leave Catherine ever again. This could be a dream. He could blink and wake up alone back in the cabin, in front of the television. He wished he could blink and take back the last fourteen months.  
  
"You should know I'm not going to talk with you," he told her, his voice low, his demeanor calm. "I don't talk with reporters."  
  
"Getting your story out, it might help find out what happened...the public needs to be aware of what's going on."  
  
"Ma'am, in my line of work, talking to people like you, never helps. So you'll excuse me, if I don't take you up on your offer."  
  
"Mary, my name is Mary...what exactly do you do?"  
  
"No, no...we won't go down that road." Grissom reached up and gently traced the features on Catherine's face. Even with the bruises, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.  
  
"She means a lot to you?" Mary asked solemnly, moving to sit down in the chair on the opposite side of the bed.  
  
"Yes, she does."  
  
"That's all you're going to tell me?"  
  
"On the record? Yes."  
  
"You know I'll find something somehow, don't you?" She arched her eyebrow upward; it was a faint reminder of the one he yearned to see so badly.  
  
"You don't know me too well, obviously," Grissom stood and moved to the other side of the room and pulled out his cellphone. He hoped that it still worked after his trek through the rain, and when the face lit up, he silently thanked God for it as he punched in the numbers.  
  
"Hey, Warrick, yea it's really me. Get Brass, tell him he needs to get here now, you too...I don't care if shift starts in an hour. She's here...yea, here... and I need you here, too. In Wilmington, Delaware...catch the first flight out, and call me when you land." Grissom tucked his phone away quickly into his soggy pockets and went back to his chair.  
  
"Who's Warrick?" Mary asked, crossing her legs.  
  
"Again, none of your business." Grissom took hold of Catherine's hand again, and rubbed his thumb against the softness of her skin. Her fingers moved within the depths of his hand. He watched as her eyes fluttered open, a little scared and very confused. Gil couldn't repress a smile of relief and he bent down to kiss her forehead. "Hey baby, you're awake."  
  
"G..."  
  
"Shh...don't talk, let me go get the doctor..." But Catherine shook her head and squeezed his hand harder as he tried to rise from his seat.  
  
"...missed you." Tears glistened in her eyes and she held onto Grissom as if she was clinging for dear life.  
  
"I know, baby, I missed you too. But we're together now."  
  
It was then that Mary rose from her seat, "I really shouldn't be here for this...I'll, I'll go get the doctor for you."  
  
Gil paid her no mind as he kept his gaze on Catherine, happy to see her sparkling blue eyes again. Mary slipped out the door unnoticed by him, shutting the door quietly behind her. She did not go unnoticed, however, by the man who stood outside the door. His eyes locked with hers; masked only partially by his wild brown hair, and for once she couldn't tell what he was thinking.  
  
"I know what you are going to say... just don't go there." She breezed past him and down the sterile, linoleum floored hallway.  
  
"Then I won't...but it still doesn't change anything."  
  
"Doesn't change what? What I did? How you're a chicken? What?" Mary stalked past him and down the hall.  
  
"Don't you feel guilty at all, for what you just did?" He replied angrily, right on her tail.  
  
"I don't have time to feel guilty."  
  
"That's right, you're too busy getting your story, to have any human compassion!"  
  
"Yes, Matthew, I'm a horrible horrible person..." she didn't look back as she flung the words behind her. Instead she kept her eye on her destination, as she made her way to the nurses' station. She left a short message with the woman at the desk and practically ran back out too her car.  
  
"Stop walking out on me Mary!"   
  
"Then stop being an asshole Matthew!" Mary flung her car door open and got in, but as she tried to shut it, Donovan's arm blocked it from closing all the way.   
  
"We're not done yet."  
  
"Oh yes we are," she retorted pulling her ring off and throwing it at him. Donovan too stunned to reply, Mary quickly shut the door, started her car, and sped off.  
  
TBC. 


	5. Ch 4: Reflection, Or Lack There Of

The Path of Thorns

By: Allison

Disclaimer: Not my players, just my playground.

Archive: The Graveyard

Rated: PG-13

A/N: This came to me a few nights ago during a bout of insomnia.

Summary: He never thought he'd find what he was running from...

* * *

Chapter 4: Reflection, Or Lack Thereof 

The last place that Mary wanted to go, after she'd sped out of the St. Francis hospital parking lot, was back to the apartment she shared with Donovan. The night continued on, however, and streaks of daylight were painting themselves across the Delaware sky. Knowing that Donovan himself would most likely not be there—Mary decided it was best if she at least made a brief visit—if only for a change of clothes. She'd grab enough clothes to last her a few days, and just sleep in her office for the night. Arrangements for a motel, or other suitable place to stay could be made later. When her mind had stopped reeling from the events of the last twelve hours.

"God, why does that man have to be so stubborn!?" Mary's face became hot with angry tears. Nothing that night had gone as she had planned. Gil Grissom, the man she'd thought would sky rocket her career—had stonewalled her. Donovan, well, she'd made sure that he was out of the picture—at least for now. Not that she had wanted things to end up this way between them, but she couldn't fix them now.

"Good grief, Kincaid, you're really on the ball tonight," she muttered to herself, jamming the key to the apartment into its metal tomb. The door creaked as it opened—and then banged forcefully against the wall as she entered.

"Guess Don'll have to invest in some good plaster," she mused, surveying the damage. The dark apartment showed no signs of life, and Mary moved quickly through it, eager to get with what she had come for and leave.

Gil Grissom, on the other hand, was in no rush at all. Everything that he wanted was right in front of him. Catherine was sleeping peacefully, the doctors having prescribed her a heavy sedative to reduce the pain. Her strawberry blonde hair splayed out from all direction atop the pillow that her head rested on. He missed its softness on his fingers, it felt like silk when he touched it—rich, exotic, and arousing.

Gil was shaken from his reverie by the slight vibration coming from his pocket. Taking out the cell phone, he flipped it open, the deep baritone voice of Warrick once again echoing from the other end.

"Grissom."

"Hey Boss, it's me. We're in the air and on our way. Brass wants to know what's going on. Hell, everyone does."

"I'll tell you everything when you get here, trust me. Just sit tight," Grissom glanced down at the woman next to him, now slowly rousing from sleep. "Once you land come straight to St. Francis Hospital, and tell the nurse you're looking for me. I'll make sure she knows to keep an eye out for you."

"Sure thing, Gris."

Just as quickly as the call had started, it was over, and Grissom was able to focus his attention back to Catherine. He'd missed so much these past month. He wasn't going to miss anymore.

Donovan fiddled with the simple gold ring that was in the palm of his hand as he walked along the streets of Wilmington. He'd been roaming around for hours, not paying attention to where he was headed, not sure where the next street would take him. Not that he cared particularly. He just walked and stared at the shiny gold band in front of him—it was easier than standing and staring at the spot where Mary had left him earlier. He knew; it had taken him fifteen minutes before he'd even realized what had happened.

He could, perhaps find a bar, some dive downtown and drink his sorrow away, but what was the point? He'd wake up feeling the same way he did now, just with a hangover tacked on for the fun of it. No, no, he was best clear headed. He needed to find a taxi, a bus, something that would get him home so he could sit down and think properly.

He just hoped that when he went to do that, that Mary wasn't there. That was the last thing that he needed right now.

Hailing a cab, he got in and made the short trip to the apartment he and Mary shared.

Opening the door, he breathed a long sigh of relief. The apartment was dark, open windows casting eerie shadows upon the floor, but no sign of Mary anywhere. It was quiet, almost too quiet as Donovan stepped into the apartment. Bits of plaster adorned the navy blue carpet, the hole in the wall a clear sign of what had occurred there earlier that night. 'She always did have a temper, didn't she?' he thought to himself light cascading over the room as he flicked the light switch. He'd clean it up later.

He been clenching the ring in his fist since he'd gotten into the cab, and it left a deep red circle on his palm as he released from its tomb. He didn't want to look at it anymore. Didn't want to be reminded about the events of the past few hours. Of the past year. Of Mary. Anger boiled in his veins, and it took all his will not to hurl the small object through the open door and out into the street. Instead, he kicked the front door shut and tossed the ring into the nearby side table drawer. There were so many memories wrapped up in such a small object. Donovan wasn't sure whether he wanted to wallow in them, or eradicate them.

Maybe a beer wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe things would seem simpler then.

Grabbing a six-pack of Miller Lite out of the fridge, he headed to the bedroom, stripping off his shirt in the process. Daylight was breaking over Wilmington.

Donovan didn't care.

It was going to be a long day.

TBC.


End file.
